The Yearning
by wonderwoundedhearers
Summary: He tells her it's called the Yearning. They both call it love. Th/s. Lem.
1. The Engagement

She taps out a disjointed rhythm with her thumb against the soft, yellow cloth covering the table she sits at.

She's nervous.

She loves this room – all soft colours and pretty pictures and full bookshelves – and she loves this house – a wonky little thing just on the outskirts of Marmoreal so she doesn't have to walk far to the village and all her friends and the Hat–

"Stop it," she murmurs to herself, closing her eyes and stilling her tapping thumb. "_Stop it_."

Her heart won't listen. It's jumping about, _dancing_, and she feels an even greater twinge at her temple than all the times before, along with a tugging on her scalp.

She can't bring herself to call off their mid-afternoon tea, not when it's such a lovely day beyond the open window that her tea table sits at and not when she enjoys _his_ company so very much.

Her scalp gives another tug.

She fingers one of her long locks of hair, her eyes still closed, wondering if she could ask _him_ why she feels this way, why the every thought of _him_ sends her spiralling and...

"Ouch!"

She opens her eyes to slap her own fingers, the fingers that had rebelliously tugged at the lock they were playing with. She stifles her sadness.

She had loved her hair, loved every inch of its satiny sheen and blonde curliness, but _now_... She doesn't hate the pink, or the burgundy, or the red, or even the faint purplish hue at her temples – no, she just...she doesn't think it suits her and that...that _he_'ll think the way she does about it, too.

And all she wants is for him to think well of her.

Her hair is soft still, she'll admit, but instead of curls there are waves and instead of satin there is frizz, and her...her _eyebrows_... Oh! They're just as colourful as her hair, and she can't even begin to contemplate how she'll feel if they too begin to grow in volume, becoming large and frizzy.

In the window, in her peripheral, she can see her reflection. She can see her hands – her fingernails an unpainted, purplish hue – fiddling with the corner of the tablecloth. She can see herself sitting in her smartest blue dress, a little wrinkled in places from all the worrying she's done over her new appearance. She can see her skin, so much paler than it had been before coming to Underland after her five years of sailing aboard the _Wonder_. She can see her deep pink lips, her long hair, and she catches a flash of her eyes, both once a bright blue, now one a light brown while the other is a deep grey.

She takes her restless fingers and fiddles with the pendant around her neck, a small white pebble on a cord from the beach of the Crimson Sea. _He _had taken her there her first day back in Underland, after she had asked him if they could have a few moments to themselves.

He had asked her so many questions on that beach as they watched the red waves, about her life and the five years since he had last seen her on that black and white battlefield. She had told him of her ship, the _Wonder_, and her father's legacy, now furthered by her, and all the places she had visited, the markets of Iran and the temples of India, but that none of it compared to _Wonder_land.

He had been so pleased to see her, so giddy and smiling, and she had fallen in love with him all over again.

She thinks of the five months she's lived in her house in Underland, of the tea parties with and without March, and of her friends who haven't seen her in a week, because of _this_.

She tugs at her hair angrily and it springs back into place, fluttering in the soft Underland breeze creeping through the window.

He had invited himself of course, after he hadn't seen her in his shop, or his workshop, or at the palace, or in town. He had sent her a missive, detailing the date and time of his arrival, days in advance so she would be ready for him and so she could put her 'work' aside.

That had been her excuse – _work_, for the Queen – and no one had questioned it, not even _him_. But that did not mean that he hadn't ignored her wishes to be left alone.

Truthfully, she doesn't want to be left alone. She had been so painfully lonely after the death of her mother and the relocation of her sister, and Absolem had been her only comfort in her world, on her travels. Now, she has so many friends, and she has _him_, too.

Her temples ache and she knows the purple there is growing longer through her hair, spreading wider.

She hasn't cried over her appearance, because that brave and _muchier_ part of her won't let her, but she wants to, because she was trying so _hard_, fluttering her eyelashes (which have since grown thick and black) and pinching her cheeks to look rosy before seeing him.

She knows he likes her, at least a fraction of how much she feels for him, but will his feelings survive this particular turn of events? She's sure he liked her all blonde and tan, even if he's never approached her the way she wants him to.

Suddenly, matching the rhythm of her heart, she hears the clattering of hooves along the cobbled street, coming up the hill from the village. Hers is the only house along the road, the other side a newly-planted orchard, and she knows that if the carriage stops then the visitor _will_ be for her.

The wheels, she hears, roll on.

Her soft sigh of relief is short-lived.

As she hears the hooves fade into the distance, another noise reaches her ears: a bright and beautiful whistled tune dances through her window and she knows only one person – one _man_ – who can whistle something so complicated and fanciful.

She turns her head, peering through the window, to see _him_ coming over the hill, his head bare of a top hat and his shoulders bereft of a jacket. He whistles as he straightens his cuffs and bowtie, before adjusting the handle of the basket in the crook of his arm.

Her heart stutters, crying out for something she _doesn't know_, and she turns away from the window, looking steadfastly down at the table and wondering if she doesn't answer the door, then will he just go away?

There's some murmuring and then a swift knock at her door. For a moment, she does not move, just sits and waits, but at his second knock her body moves into action without her knowledge or consent.

Her hand is on the door handle before she truly knows it as she stands in the entranceway of her house, frozen and unblinking.

She wants to let him in, but she wants to still be his friend more.

His third knock and muffled words settle it. She opens the door.

The Hatter – _her _Hatter – stands in front of her, shuffling on the doorstep and toying with something beneath the cloth covering his basket, and when he sees the door is open, he comes rushing inside.

"Good afternoon!" He cries, rushing his way into her parlour and leaving her to follow in his wake.

Alice trails him, silent, and watches him from behind as he sets his basket on the table and uncovers it to reveal all sorts of sweets and treats and cakes. He goes about setting them out around the teapot she's already put out on the table, talking to himself as he does.

She watches his quick, pale hands arrange their tea, his booted feet shuffling against the dark floorboards, his wavy, dark orange hair fluttering in the breeze, and the back of his dark brown shirt come untucked from his matching trousers.

Alice wonders why he's so preoccupied as not to notice the drastic changes in her appearance. A flutter of hope springs from her stomach to her chest, thinking that _perhaps_ he just might not care.

She comes around behind him, lips twitching in a smile at his whispered nonsense as he fiddles with the placement of three yellow jam tarts. She reaches out to touch his shoulder at the same moment he presses the back of his hand to the teapot on the table.

"This will _never_ do. Far too cold," he lisps softly, before hurrying out of the room with the teapot and not once glancing back.

He's been in her house so many times she's lost count, but not once has he ever seemed so...out of sorts. She can hear him in the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards, turning the taps on and off.

With a sigh, she sits down and waits for him to come back, looking over the pastries and pies decorating the table.

"An awful lot of trouble for him to go to," she says to herself, thoughtfully averting her gaze to the flowering pink rose bushes Mallymkun had helped her plant the month before.

"Here we are!" He says, striding into the room and forcing her gaze on him, before staring her right in the face and promptly dropping the steaming tea pot.

His gaze is wide and green, his eyelids shaded with that vibrant blue and pink (but only ever so slightly nowadays,) and his jaw is slack as he stares at her, unwaveringly.

She gives him a timid smile, and he walks through the puddle of tea and broken china to her.

"Alice?" He breathes, and her heart clenches painfully.

"Yes?"

He swallows, blinking at her. "You...look different."

Her eyes slide away without her meaning to, her vision decidedly watery as she stares down at the floral-patterned tea cup in front of her.

"Yes. I do, don't I?"

His hands cover hers in her lap, and she turns in surprise to see he's on one knee next to her, his grin as wide and white as ever, but somehow...even _more_ so.

"Oh, _Alice_. Is it true?"

She stares down at him. "Whatever do you mean?"

He blinks owlishly. "That you've chosen me?"

The blush that colours her face, she knows, is bright and hot. "H-Hatter..."

He grips one of her hands and lifts it to his face. "How long have you been like this?"

"All week," she answers quietly.

"Me, too," he replies softly, looking up at her through his silvery lashes.

Alice frowns, about to question him, when he takes her hand from his cheek and pushes it into the hair at the back of his neck, tucked just beneath his collar. Her hand comes away with one, long, blonde curl between her fingers.

She stares at it in amazement. "What is this?"

"I had to hide it," he lisps, "in case you saw and didn't feel the same. I've...I've been hiding it for a very long time, Alice, ever since you left. I've missed you this week, and I...I wondered why you were avoiding me...if...if you _knew_."

"Knew what?"

His white cheeks take on a glow. "W-well...that is to say...that I, uh...goodness! It's awfully warm today, isn't it? No, no...that isn't what I want to say at all..."

Hatter plays with her fingers, his thumb rubbing over her coloured nails.

"What is it you want to say, Hatter?" She asks, and he watches her for a moment before opening his mouth.

No words come out.

He looks up at her, _hopefully_ almost. She thinks about his words and the (definitely attached) blonde curl sprouting from his head.

"Your eyes are looking...rather blue," Alice comments, tilting her head as his green eyes suddenly shine azure.

"Hm, yes. I can't control it...now that you're here...and I'm...touching you..." He strokes her wrist with his thumb, his cheeks flushing slightly.

She thinks about her frizzy hair and her mismatched eyes...the pallor of her skin and the odd colour of her nails...and, in a moment, she realises that she looks like _him_. She's about to ask him whether it's a normal Underlandish occurrence or something entirely different, when she sees his red hair suddenly _flatten_.

"Hatter?"

The strands are smoothing out, beginning to shine, and, from the very roots, a few locks begin to turn deep gold.

"What does it mean?"

His smile is timid, his blue eyes sincere. "I can't be without you. Alice...it's...I _yearn_ for you. Do you yearn for me, too?"

She can say with absolute certainty that she _does_, but what does that have to do with her looking like him or him looking like her?

"It happens," he tells her quietly, "when two people are...very much..._enamoured_ of each other. In the court, it's called the Yearning, but...in my village, it was called..._love_."

Alice sits there, shocked to her very core that the man she's been longing for all this time actually wants her too, and for more than a seat-filler at a tea party.

"It's called love where I'm from, too," she says, before barrelling into a completely different line of enquiry. "Hatter! I've been trying to get you to notice me for...for _months_! And it takes me looking like this for you to finally..._oh, bother_!"

She's hot all over, no longer in her seat but now pacing back and forth across the room in her ire, when she realises she's standing in the spilt tea. Her shoulders droop and she looks back over to where Hatter is now standing, head tilted and twisting his fingers together anxiously.

"Did you say something very wonderful just a moment ago, Alice?" He asks quietly, his lisp lessening and his voice becoming...deeper.

She holds back her angry tears, completely taken aback by her urge to shout and scream and bawl because she shouldn't and...he's just told her he loves her.

"Why do I feel like my head's about to pop off?" She asks, sniffling.

Hatter takes a step towards her. "I feel like that sometimes, like a tea-kettle that needs to whistle. You're just feeling what I feel, and I...I feel _brave_ today, Alice, because I feel how _you _feel. And that's why I'm here, because you made me brave enough to...to do this."

Before she can really take note of the determined set of his jaw or the deep brogue lacing his voice, her face is in his hands and he's...he's kissing her, like how she'd seen Lowell kissing Hattie, except...it's so much nicer than that had seemed.

There's a fire in her stomach that wants to race through her veins, and as his left hand draws her closer to him by the waist, that fire consumes her. Every inch of her.

He leaves her breathless as he pulls back to look into her eyes. Her heart pounds from the softness of his lips, the _warmth_, and it's as if she can still feel them against hers.

Hatter's eyes are dark, the black swallowing the blue, and she feels something even greater than fire in her belly.

"Have you really been trying to get me to notice you?" He asks her, his voice undeniably soft and husky.

She nods, unable to trust her voice.

His fingers curl in her hair as he whispers, "I thought I was making it all up, imagining your...your looks and your _touches_. Oh, Alice..."

"How do I change back?" She manages to ask him.

He simply frowns. "You don't."

"What, never?"

He leans in once more, his warm breath fanning over her lips, making her ache. "I don't know, but...I like you...like this. Not that I didn't like you before, of course, but you're much more...muchier like this...much more Underlandian...much more..._Alice_."

She doesn't have it in her to be upset any more, let alone resentful of her new looks now that she knows they are inspired by _him_. She notices the gold weaving through his red hair has stopped its progress, and she reaches up to comb through the strands with her fingers.

"Does this...happen to everyone?" She asks.

"In Underland," he confirms. "Just look at Mirana. Her hair turned white! All for the King."

"What happened to _him_?"

Hatter clears his throat and moves his arms in a very Mirana-like fashion, and Alice grins at the picture of a man – a _King_ – being so..._flouncy_. He sees her smile and matches it, grinning at her sweetly.

"Alice." His voice is suddenly low again, and his eyes are intense. "If I ask you a question, do you swear to say yes?"

Unthinkingly, she nods. She will never deny him.

He picks up his basket and reaches inside.

"Close your eyes, dearest," Hatter tells her, and, reluctantly, she does.

He takes his hand in hers, and, on his command, she opens her eyes again to see him kneeling in front of her, proffering a ring from his bethimbled thumb and bandaged forefinger.

Her breath hitches between her chest and throat and she tightens her grip on Hatter's hand.

"Alice." His lisp has returned, soft and sweet. "Will you be my bride?"

She's too stunned to speak a word.

His forehead creases in obvious worry, but he seems to soldier on. "Will you live with me and have tea with me every day? You're so wonderful, so _good_, and I...I love you. I want to...to take walks with you in the woods and meet all our friends like we usually do, but...as my _wife_. I want to...to share your bed... Alice?"

Heat creeps up her neck as Hatter's expression grows darker and darker, assuming the worst about her silence. Her emotions are haywire, sparking and fizzling, and she thinks she just might explode.

"How do you live with this, Hatter?" She chokes out. "So much..._feeling_."

He gives her a gentle, wobbly smile. "Loving you helps."

"I love you, too," Alice finally manages to blurt out, and Hatter's expression changes in an instant.

His eyebrows fly up, his mouth widening in a smile so bright and beautiful it is surely unparalleled in all the world, and his blue eyes shine with _hope_.

"Yes," she whispers. "_Yes_."

He slips the thin silver band on her finger, his hands shaking, and stands, wiping his palms off on his trousers. For a moment, there is silence, the both of them staring at the other, and then she is in his arms, being kissed so _thoroughly_, and she finds herself wrapping her limbs around him like some kind of sinuous feline.

He pulls away, chest heaving. "I was going to propose over tea and cake, but you rather surprised me, dear Alice. _Naughty_."

Never has she felt so womanly, so _wanted_, and never has another person's gaze affected her so much. Hatter's eyes flash gold before settling somewhere between blue and green, and she feels the heat of that flash of his darker side settle heavily between her ribs and her legs, prompting her to kiss him most scandalously.

Once he is dazed and she is thoroughly satisfied of his incoherency, she asks, "May we live here?"

She loves his ramshackle house in the village, but she's imagined him in her house, living with her, so many times that it feels wrong to allow anything else. His thumb tenderly strokes her jaw as he gazes down at her with soft, dark eyes.

"Anything for you, Alice." He takes a steadying breath, grinning as he kisses her knuckles. "Now, _tea_. Will it be one sugar or two today, and will you try the lemon meringue?"

They sit down to their tea after making a fresh batch, both of them smiling like Chess into their cups. They try the lemon meringue, the sponge, _and _the tarts, and it is as Alice gazes adoringly at her engagement ring on her left hand, nibbling the edge of a purplish biscuit she's never tried before, that she has the positively _sinful_ thought of what else her _husband_ may be able to do with her body, besides igniting a fire inside of her.

His fingers are quick and clever, his mouth a delight, and though she has only vague notions of what goes on in the marriage bed, she cannot wait to find out what other pleasures his body holds for hers.

The grin lighting his face at that particular moment, should she have chosen to glance at him, would have told her he was wondering the exact same thing.

* * *

**A/N**: Taking a dip back in these waters after writing my first ever fanfiction for this movieverse-fandom and then removing it from the site so long ago. Apologies to those who remember that story – it might make a comeback, who knows? For now, I just hope you enjoy this three-part story.


	2. The Wedding

She can't say she's nervous at all – no, she's excited! – but she has been worried for the past week whether there will be any problems today at all, especially during the ceremony.

Her mother had once told her that her wedding day would be the most memorable day of her life and on that day she would truly become a woman.

Well, as much as Alice had loved her mother, she doesn't believe that the vows she will take in a half-hour will make her any more of a woman. No, definitely not. The battle with the Jabberwocky and her years sailing the oceans had seen to her womanly development.

The only way she could become any more of a woman would be..._carnally_, and she's been thinking about that very much.

A two-month long engagement, without any sort of chaperoning, has given her many chances to be alone with her Hatter, _Tarrant_, and his hands and lips have haunted her dreams for weeks.

She hasn't explored further than his chest and he, in turn, has not dared to do much more than grip her waist when in the throes of a passionate kiss or brush the nape of her neck with his fingertip when she pins her colourful hair up. But she knows that the passion they have already shared, the kisses and heat and touches, are nothing compared to what they will share, later this night.

Alice looks out over Marmoreal from her place on the white balcony – she is awaiting the Queen's word that the ceremony is beginning.

Tarrant has been suspiciously missing the entire day, and it has been hard to go without his good morning kiss, the one which he usually bestows on her after walking to her house for a late breakfast, as has become their usual routine.

Alice, once again, momentarily wonders at the difference between her world and Underland. Topside, she would never have been allowed to see her betrothed so much or so often and never without a watchful eye, but here, in Underland, there is no scandal in being in love.

There had been a magnificent celebration dinner held by Mirana in honour of the engagement of her Champion and the Royal Hatter, and all their friends had been overjoyed at the news, but no one had told Alice to not be alone with him so much or that he's acting inappropriately by taking her on long, lovely walks through the forest.

It's so marvellous, so _freeing_, and it only solidifies the thought in her mind that Underland is so very perfect and so very much her _true_ home.

A _swish_ over her shoulder brings her out of her thoughts and she turns her head, smiling, to gaze into the bright eyes of Chessur.

"Good _morning_, Alice," he drawls lazily, hovering on his back over her shoulder, swishing his striped tail back and forth.

She returns his greeting and scratches his ear. A purr rumbles from him and he gives a long, _languorous_ stretch.

"Just thought I'd give you some advice," he tells her, bumping his head against hers in that feline manner. "Hatter's in a bit of a tizz today, so go easy on him _tonight_. Or don't! I'll be amused either way..."

"What do you mean?" She frowns. "What's wrong with him?"

"Oh, he doesn't know I heard, but I was just floating through the castle and he came flying from the Queen's chambers looking positively _green_, muttering something about _you_."

It's at that moment, as Alice is about to ask Chessur for more details, that a high clearing of a throat cuts through the air and the cat disappears with a grin in a puff of smoke, leaving Mirana to take his place at Alice's side.

The Queen gives her a dainty smile. "Pay no mind to that old cat. He's spent too long sneaking about these halls. I merely gave Hatter some practical advice and he became a little nervous. I'm sure he's right as rain now, though."

Alice lifts a cautious eyebrow. "What sort of advice, Your Majesty?"

Mirana waves her pale hand. "It makes no matter. I'm here to offer you the same, Alice – are there any questions you have that need answering? I was married for quite some time myself, you know."

"Yes." She nods. "I might have some questions."

The Queen awaits her patiently. Alice takes a steadying breath.

"I was wondering whether there was anything I truly needed to know, for..._tonight_, that is. I have an idea of what will happen, but I'm not entirely sure of the way to go about it."

Mirana gives her a secretive smile. "I shall tell you what I told another. It isn't any ordinary sort of dance – the _lady _must lead and the gentleman must follow. Clumsiness and injury is, regrettably, unavoidable, at least the first time. Do you understand the..._mechanics_?"

Alice's cheeks heat, thinking back to those strange books and paintings she had peeked at under a cloth on that market stall in China.

"I have a fair understanding," she replies softly. "But is there anything in particular that I have to do?"

"Look after yourself and do what feels right. The rest will follow." Mirana smiles gently. "He's waiting for you."

The Queen turns away, and Alice follows, gripping the bouquet of pink flowers Mallymkun had picked for her.

The short train of her white silken gown trails behind her along the pure marble floors, as they take the halls towards the Grand Court where the ceremony will take place. She hasn't been rehearsed into the particulars, only that the Queen's word will bind her and Hatter in matrimony and there will be an exchanging of rings.

She curls her finger around the simple, silver-striped band tied to the ribbon wrapped around her posy. It isn't that she doesn't trust another to hold it for her; she just wants to keep it for a little while before it becomes Hatter's.

Alice had asked the Queen if there was someone in the kingdom who she could commission to make Hatter's ring. Mirana had come back with the name of a merchant, an odd little man by the name of Bertram with a thick black beard and no hair on his head, who, she had on good authority, was in possession of a few select rings.

Alice had visited the man and found Hatter's perfect ring amongst many in the man's collection. It had struck her instantly on sight that the twisting shades of silver curling around the band would fit her new husband very nicely and suit him down to the ground.

A giggle breaks her from her reverie and she sees Mirana smiling down at something just inside a grand doorway. On closer inspection Alice finds the doorway leads to the antechamber of what must be the Grand Court and that Mirana is admiring March's wedding attire, which he is uncomfortably tugging at the collar of.

The little white waistcoat and bowtie make Alice smile. "You look wonderful."

"Aye!" He growls, scratching himself behind the ear with his foot.

Mirana leads her through the closed doors, March bouncing along close behind and kicking the doors shut once again. Alice finds herself being led up a long aisle, each side lined with rows of empty seats where she knows members of Court usually sit.

The wedding will only be viewed by close friends, but the uninvited will attend the lunch and afternoon dance being held in their honour.

The sun shining through the tall windows at the end of the hall illuminates the figures standing at the steps there. Her heart gives a definite and familiar flutter when she sees Hatter, previously obscured by a pillar and now blessedly in her view. The hat upon his head is tall and silver-coloured, finely made, and his wedding suit is all-white, including his shoes. She smiles.

He doesn't turn as she approaches, but their friends do. March joins the small group standing quietly at the bottom of the steps leading to the dais on which Hatter stands. The Tweedles, McTwisp, Chessur, Absolem, Mallymkun, Bayard and his family, Dodo, and Banders are all in attendance, and they all look so wistfully at her as she approaches.

She hears Mallymkun sigh about her dress, and Absolem flutters over to press a gentle kiss to her cheek, before flying away again.

Mirana takes Alice's hand and leads her up onto the dais. Only then does Hatter look at her.

His hair, always so crazed, seems to have been tamed today, and the blonde curls she had unknowingly magically bestowed on him are silken and shining. His blue eyes gaze at her adoringly, and she feels a blush grace her cheeks.

He takes her gloved hand in his, smiling, as Mirana clears her throat.

"Alice Kingsleigh and Tarrant Hightopp, you have been brought before these witnesses to be married under the royal word. I believe you both have the rings?"

Alice unties Hatter's from her bouquet and holds it out, waiting for Hatter to do the same. He takes his time, looking through his jacket pockets, before pulling out a silk handkerchief and unfolding it. From the centre, he produces a golden wedding band, a small blue stone set in the ring. She loves it.

Hatter tucks away the silk and holds out the ring. The Queen gestures between them.

"Each hold out your left hand, and with the right put on the ring, repeating after me..." Alice swallows her bubbling excitement, turning to Hatter and holding out her hand as she takes his – he smiles at her as they wait for Mirana's words. "To you I bestow this ring."

"To you I bestow this ring," they repeat softly.

"As a token of my yearning, my love, and my devotion."

They grin. "As a token of my yearning, my love, and my devotion."

"And with this ring I bind my immortal life to yours, never to be broken."

They repeat Mirana's words once more, even though Alice is a little taken aback by them.

_Is_ she immortal? The Queen's small grin tells her _yes_, they just hadn't told her yet.

Alice smiles at the thought of _forever_, in Underland, with Hatter, and promises herself to pay a visit to her younger brother and elder sister one day, especially if she has an eternity to live.

"The rings," she urges, and Alice and Hatter move simultaneously, slipping the rings on the other's finger.

There's a flash inside of her, something warm and fuzzy and undeniably magical, and Alice knows she is now wed to Tarrant, her Hatter. His smile is blinding, and even the small gap between his front teeth looks happy. She wants to kiss him.

She sees Mirana's dark lips widen in a sly grin. "You may now take the ceremonial walk through the garden maze."

Hatter glances at the Queen for a moment, a slight frown on his face, before his expression clears and he turns back to Alice with the same grin as Mirana. He holds out his arm.

"My dear," he murmurs, and a wonderful tremor shoots up her spine.

Alice takes his arm and lets Hatter lead her out of the hall, silently at his side as he walks her out of the palace and towards the misty back gardens.

"Why is it always so foggy out here?" She asks him as he takes her along a stone path, a great arch of white roses signalling the entrance to the maze.

"The Queen likes the maze to be difficult to navigate," he lisps, smiling, his eyes darkening a fraction. "When people get lost, they find who they really are."

Alice frowns at the thought of getting lost. "But, the party?"

"Don't fret," he tells her gently, leading her past the arch and into the passage on the right. "I know my way. Besides, Alice, it's _traditional_."

He giggles. She smiles.

"_Tarrant_," she intones suspiciously.

He looks positively gleeful. "Oh, you know I can't resist you when you call me that. _Naughty_."

She pinches his arm and he giggles again.

"Oh, alright!" Hatter grins. "Mirana lied. There's no such thing as the ceremonial walk."

"Then why would she..."

Alice trails off when she looks up from the twists and turns and corners they are taking to see Hatter's eyes are trained directly on her. He pulls her to a gentle but abrupt stop, leaning in close.

"Alice." His lisp is nowhere to be found, that thick brogue taking its place. "Where are we?"

"In the maze," she answers simply. "Taking a walk."

"Alone?"

"Yes, quite alone. _Oh_."

He smiles. "She knows about love, Alice. She's given us some time to ourselves, until...later."

His voice is a little choked at the end, and she wonders if he's anticipating sharing her bed tonight as much as she is. Perhaps he's even _worried_ about it.

But before Alice has time to reassure him, his lips touch hers and his hands come about her waist as he steps into her, pressing her back against the thick, white hedge. She is lost, entirely, and she is lost to him.

His fingers dance across her waistline as his lips travel her neck, and she sighs, closing her eyes and tipping her head back at his touch. His thumb finds the small window in the silk just above the small of her back, beneath the single pearl button that holds the two sloping sides of the back of her dress together. He strokes her warm skin with shaking hands.

"Hatter," Alice sighs, prompting him to pull back an inch.

"Is there something wrong?"

"I just wanted to say..." She licks her bottom lip, tasting tea, and sees his eyes follow the soft swipe. "I want you to know that I love you, and..._tonight_, well, it won't change that. It will only make it greater."

He stares at her for a moment. "You know what will happen..."

She glances down at the stones beneath their feet. "Do you think me wicked?"

"Entirely," Hatter replies, and she grins. "But I think you even more wonderful. May I kiss you again?"

"You don't need to ask, sweet Hatter." She kisses him fiercely, relishing the feeling of those familiar butterflies nesting in her belly.

"Sweet," he mutters against her lips. "Sugar, cakes, pies, pastries, meringues..._Alice_."

She smiles, kissing him once more. He hasn't had as many bad turns since they became engaged and their feelings came out into the open, with every train of thought simply leading back to her and calming him instantly. This time it seems the reminder of their engagement has settled his mind.

His hand slips lower on her back, caressing the very rise of her backside, and Alice feels her stomach twist into delicious knots.

He's her _husband_, he's _allowed_ to touch her, and she wants to touch him too. Her hands though, they have a very different idea, and they merely settle on his lapels, her thumbs sliding beneath his jacket. Though seemingly chaste, the touch visibly steals Hatter's breath, and he gazes down at her with so much heat in his eyes.

"Aye, lass," he practically growls in her ear. "_Later_."

His words are heavy, dark, and filled with promise.

* * *

Hand-in-hand, Alice and Hatter walk through the white wood on the edge of Marmoreal, a shortcut to Alice's– to _their _house.

The wedding party in the castle courtyard is long over, and the sky is a rosy hue from the impending rise of the sun. The pale trees around them are glittering with shiny insects, and a warm breeze shifts the canopy of leaves above their heads soundlessly. She feels like Underland is leading them home.

She had been almost desperate to get to their wedding night, to their time alone, after having to leave their little sanctuary in the maze to get to their reception on time. But after seeing the cheering crowds, being congratulated by what seemed like every subject, and dancing with their friends, the urgency had been forgotten.

It is not urgency she feels now as she spies their house past the edge of the wood. She feels excited, but, most of all, she feels comforted. Hatter's hand is warm and secure in hers, and he gives her a sideways smile as he leads her to the door.

When they are finally inside of the house, staring at each other, the door shut behind them as they stand at the foot of the stairs, Alice still feels that comfort.

"It's been a wonderful day," she says, and Hatter nods, removing his hat and giving her a timid grin.

"It certainly has," he whispers, taking the first step of the stairs and leading her up the rest.

The bedroom is small, only meant for one, with bookshelves on most of the walls and the bed pressed into the corner of the room that receives the most sunlight from the windows, but she can imagine them both in here, asleep, curled together. Such a marvellous image.

Hatter places his hat on the closest shelf, between two thick tomes on the history of Underland. He nervously tugs at his bowtie. Alice gives him a gentle smile, stilling his hands.

"Tarrant."

He swallows. "Yes?"

"Will you help unpin my hair?"

His relieved nod is answer enough and she turns to face the diamond windows, watching the distorted sunlight filter over the hills of the horizon.

Hatter's fingers are swift and gentle, pulling out her pearl pins and placing them neatly next to his hat. When her burgundy hair is once more comfortably around her shoulders, she feels his fingers explore instead of retreat.

One hand comes about her waist, his palm pressed to the flat of her stomach, while the other hand brushes over her neck, her shoulder.

"So beautiful," he whispers against her hair, his thumb on her collarbone.

She covers his hands with her own, leaning back into him. Her breath leaves her at the feel of his hands, _moving_, his fingers plucking at the pearl holding her dress together.

"Alice?"

"Please," she murmurs, and Hatter acquiesces almost instantly.

Her dress pools around her feet in a silken spool, leaving her in her lightest undergarments. She hears his breath hitch as his fingers explore her bare arms, and she turns to see him better.

Hatter's eyes are heavily lidded, _glowing_, and the blue is a deep navy that pulls her into his power and holds her under some kind of spell. She cannot look away, and she does not want to.

Her fingers untie his bowtie, undo his buttons, tug at his shirt, until they are both in similar states of _déshabiller_. She steps back from him, her thumb curling underneath the right shoulder strap of her chemise.

"Hatter, come here."

He does. He steps into the warm, little bubble where it is just they two and he follows her instructions as she lifts his large, warm hand to the front lacings of her chemise. He undoes them with trembling fingers, eyes on her face, and swallows as the material falls to the floor.

Alice stands there, unashamed, in nothing but a short pair of silk bloomers, and she eyes Hatter's bare chest and white, knee-length under-shorts with a calculating gaze. She turns and urges him to sit on the edge of the bed. He does so with little reluctance, his eyes darting from her pert breasts to her face and back again.

Taking a deep breath, she pulls down her last remaining scrap of clothing, before doing the same for Hatter, and she is instantly aware of another presence in the room.

Her gulp, she thinks, is imagined, but the effect is still the same.

On the _Wonder_, there had been little room for modesty and privacy for the men working aboard the vessel, and, on more than one occasion, she had happened to glance across the deck or out of her window to see some sailor relieving himself. But she had never been faced with a manhood so directly, and she had never seen one that so fervently called upon her basest of desires.

Hatter's hand comes to rest underneath her chin, tenderly holding her jaw, and he smiles as she finally tears her gaze from his rather impressive size and _rigidity_.

"Ye know what will happen, Alice?" He asks gruffly, and she nods, awkwardly taking a seat on the bed next to him.

"Aye." She grins, unfazed by the quick changes between her sweet Hatter and her exciting Hightopp.

His smile is slow and sly. "Aye, lassie. I'll make ye mine."

Hatter's hand slides up her thigh, urging her back onto the bed, as he dips his head to kiss her neck _thoroughly_.

Alice cannot contain her reaction. "_Tarrant_..."

Her moan makes him shiver above her. "I dinnae want to hurt ye."

"I was told you must," she breathes, looking into his pale face as he covers her naked body with his.

"Aye, an' I the same," he grits. "I mus' make ye me own...but ye must lead me."

Alice smiles, knowing that Mirana had given her the same advice that she had given Hatter, and so she nods, doing the thing that feels most comfortable, that feels most _right_, and wraps her arms around his shoulders and parts her thighs to admit his.

With a groan, he settles between the warmth of her thighs and shudders against her. She can feel him, his most insistent manhood pressed hard against her opposite, her womanhood slick and hot and trembling.

Hatter holds himself above her as his left hand travels her body, causing her stomach to erupt in the most wonderful sensations as he caresses her breasts, her thigh, and her...

"Oh, Lord... _Tarrant_!"

"I don't know what I'm doing," he confesses in his familiar lisp, his eyes suddenly wide and bright on hers. "I've never done this before, never _wanted_ to..."

Alice holds her breath, fighting the feeling of wanting to fall apart at his tentative touch to her most sensitive place. She sighs into his urgent kiss, before gently pulling away.

"Let me lead," Alice murmurs, and Hatter's smile returns.

"Aye."

Gently – so gently she cannot even _bear _it – Alice aligns their hips, searching for the answers in her memory and in her own body. Something from that Frabjous Day so long ago pierces her lust-fogged mind, and she remembers the words '_it knows what it wants_...'

Her body knows what it wants, to be filled, to be joined, and as Hatter's manhood meets her softness, pressing inside at her insistence, her body begins to work of its own accord.

The pain is not unbearable as he pushes into her fully, and it is not so overwhelming that his twisted expression of undeniable pleasure does not lessen the dull ache inside of her. He is breathless above her, _inside_ her, and her body's sinuous urgings for him to complete the night and welcome the morning are not ignored.

He looks at her as if she is the sun herself, and kisses her as if she is a much needed refreshment. His hips, pushing, pulling, _teasing_, and _pleasuring_, turn her organised mind to mulch.

Hatter presses his lips to hers, her cheek, her ear, muttering strange Outlandish words she's never heard before but that she somehow _knows_ are just for her, never to be spoken again unless it is in this room, this bed, and he is making her skin flame.

There's something, some strange sort of peak she is unknowingly chasing, and it is as Hatter murmurs something in a strangled tone, one hand tangled in her hair as the other squeezes her thigh, that she finds the peak and dives straight from it, head-first, into warm and brilliant nothingness.

Hatter's sudden hoarse cry of delight is muffled against her breast, and it sends vibrations so delicious along her spine that she thinks she sees the gates of heaven, just for a scant moment.

When she rouses herself enough to open her lead eyelids, she finds Hatter, collapsed atop her and breathing like he's just run a country mile.

"Are you alright?" She asks, stroking his gold-streaked red hair as she presses her other hand to his damp back.

He laughs against her breast. "Quite. I could...Futterwacken...if I had...the energy."

Alice laughs, causing Hatter to moan a little. "But you already did it at the party."

"Alice," he sighs blissfully. "With you, I could do The Futterwack all day."

She smiles against his hair, curling against him and falling asleep just as his arms come about her tightly and drag her under the warm covers.

She wonders what tomorrow holds.


	3. The Happily Ever After

She catches the sugar tongs flying towards her head with practised ease.

"You're getting better at that," a familiar voice says from somewhere behind her.

Alice doesn't look up from her book on toadstools, placing the sugar tongs back on the kitchen table behind her, but, this time, far away enough from Ambrose so that he can't reach them again. She continues to cut the cake she made this morning with her free hand.

"Welcome home," she says, distractedly plating the slice of cake. "Do you know there are some types of toadstools that can turn you _invisible_?"

Arms come about her waist, soft lips brushing her ear. "Of course. I ate one once that turned me _blue _for an entire hour. How was your day, dearest? Was our son much trouble?"

"Only as much as he ever is." Alice grins, snapping her book shut and turning in her Hatter's arms. "Though March has been teaching him a few things."

Her statement is immediately evidenced by the sugar cubes that come flying towards them. Hatter takes the pelting with grace and a wide grin.

He kisses his wife's lips. "I missed you."

She sighs in agreement. "Did it go well?"

"Of course! I'm not the Royal Hatter for nothing, though the Queen could have been a little more..._considerate_ of our special day."

He says this with a shamed expression, as if speaking any sort of ill of Mirana is entirely wrong.

"No one's perfect," Alice soothes, running her hand through his hair. "And she has kept you all to herself for two days to make hats you could have easily made here."

Hatter shrugs, before dancing her across the kitchen and into a chair. He then turns and grins down at his son, who sits in his highchair, blinking owlishly up at his father, all big dark curls and large blue eyes, his fat little fists grasping at the sugar cube bowl.

"Now, now, Ambrose," he chides, kissing the top of his head. "When you throw things at your mother you _must _make it more of a challenge, otherwise it's not fun for her at all."

Their little boy laughs as if he knows what his father is saying, though it's not likely as he's only nine months old. Alice smiles as he babbles back, making Hatter look as pleased as punch.

"Clever boy," he says, ruffling his hair, eyes glowing as they land on Alice.

He reaches for the cake on the side and takes the seat next to her at the table, his arm around her waist as he slides the plate towards her.

"Happy un-anniversary," he whispers in her ear, and she smiles down at the piece of lemon cake she had cut.

A single, long-stemmed, blue flower lies on the side of the plate where it hadn't been before. He takes it and puts it in her hair, tucking it just behind her ear and lovingly kissing her cheek. She takes his hand on her knee and rubs the ring on his finger there, smiling as she does.

"Happy un-anniversary," she murmurs back, ducking Ambrose's latest throw as he giggles delightedly.

Hatter beams.

* * *

_**Finis**_


End file.
